Always
by onlywithlove
Summary: One-shot: Regina left Robin at the altar. Seven years later, she runs into Robin at a market in England. What happens then?


**here's a quick AU one shot. hope you all enjoy it!**

She smelled the juicy, ripe strawberries as she picked each one up before placing it in a box that sat in her basket. The soft breeze caressed the back of her neck, which caused her to shiver, albeit she was under the warm, but not too hot sun. Headphones in her ears, she finished her task and capered around the bustling market goers, perusing the seemingly endless aisles of foods.

The girl's gentle, white sundress went down mid-thigh. She wore brown sandals, making the activity of walking more comfortable, with an old-fashioned watch on her wrist that was made by her father back when he was alive. Alongside the gadget lived her many bracelets, all gold to match the rings snuggly resting on her delicate fingers and the necklaces dangling from her tan neck. On her head, she wore a pair of sunglasses with a thicker top rim, which kept her long, dark-brown locks from her face.

It was summer, and England during this time was a beautiful place to be in. The temperature was just right, the rain was somewhat minimal, and the sunlight seemed to brighten up not only the sky, but the tourists and inhabitants in it. The fruits and vegetables were fresher around this period, for all the farmers had been preparing all year, desiring to appeal to the market crowd.

Making her way to the cashier after encountering all that she needed, the girl fiddled around her handbag, looking for the money she safely kept in a wallet that seemed to want to remain unfound. As she finally felt the smooth leather, a strong figure bumped into her. Before she could fall backwards, however, a pair of hands caught her by the elbows.

The girl looked up, and what, or rather whom, she saw made her heart beat frantically and her breathing to increase like the buildup a roller coaster faces before speeding down a ramp—it was him.

It was the one she swore she would never speak to, nor ever see again. She had tried her best to run away as far as possible, yet here she was running straight into him. Maybe it was his purpose, finding her, or maybe it was merely a coincidence, and she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, he was here.

He looked just as shock as she did. It had been too long…way too long. Seven years to be exact. As the initial surprise disappeared, his mind noticed the features that seemed all too familiar to him—her dark eyes, her soft lips, the few tiny freckles she had on her cheeks, her strong, yet slender arms, and her long, smooth legs.

Aware of his gaze, the girl shifted on her feet uncomfortably. She internally debated whether she should say something first or wait for him to initiate the conversation. Deciding that she would rather get this awkward confrontation over with instead of enduring the awkward silence, she sighed and attempted to give him a small smile, which ended up looking like a grimace.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey," he replied.

"How are—"

"What are you—"

They both stopped, and the pair chuckled, and the, although still extremely evident, palpable tension dwindled slighty.

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and smiled at her. "You look good."

"You do too," she admitted. He really did. Those piercing, amicable blue eyes of his seemed to shine while he smiled. His face, although still young, seemed more mature and full of experience. His sandy blonde hair was sticking up as if he had just woken up, giving him a charming, yet seductive appearance. The long-sleeves of his maroon, half-buttoned shirt were rolled up to his elbows, allowing a glimpse of his strong, muscular arms. The dark-washed jeans he sported were completed with black Adidas Strut-Hi sneakers, and to top it all off, he donned a brown satchel across his torso.

"What are you doing here in England?" he questioned curiously, trying to make small talk.

"Just visiting," she answered. "How about you?"

"Just visiting," he grinned.

The pair was met by silence, and the girl was about to say something else when the boy nervously asked, "do you want to get some coffee with me? Or take a walk? Whatever you want to do. I just—it's really nice to see you."

 _Don't do it. It's a bad a idea. Don't say yes._

"Okay," she blushed and nodded, "coffee sounds good."

 _Idiot, good job. Way to follow your conscience!_

He smiled at her again. God, that smile was just too contagious, too charming. A part of her wanted to run away again, but the other part wanted to stay. She wondered the answers to all the questions running through her head even if some of them were simple and frivolous; was he still running his father's shop in New York? What was he doing now? How was his family? Other personal questions flowed through her mind, but she tried not to dwell on those since she knew that they would drive her crazy.

She would be lying if she said that she hadn't thought about him once during those seven years. She had thought about him every day, in fact. He was the one that could have been, well, _the one_ ; he almost was, actually. She had made it down the aisle before she turned around and left. She had been scared—scared that her past made him love her less, even if he had insisted that it didn't bother him, scared of the present, which, at the time, seemed too good to be true, especially for her, and scared of the future because it was…the future.

She had succeeded at running away, of course, and during those years, she had lost all communication with him—no texts, no letters, no emails, no phone calls, nothing; he eventually stopped trying to find her, but it had taken him years to get over her.

She was fine with how things had turned out at first, but then the deeply buried regret and the what-ifs rose throughout her entire being, engulfing her soul, and she spiraled downwards. Eventually, she made her way back up, dropping everything to travel the world and start a new life. But here she was, running into him at a _marketplace_ in the middle of England, for crying out loud.

The pair walked silently side by side towards the Le Chat Cafe, a quaint, retro coffee house just a few blocks away. As they reached the entrance, he quickly jogged in front of her and held the door open.

"After you, my lady," he bowed, causing her to laugh.

"Thank you, kind sir," she replied and curtsied.

When she walked in, she became speechless; it was simply beautiful. Small, white wooden tables were scattered around the room, whose walls were made of bricks, and its floors were covered in dark, hard wood, giving it a sort of vintage kind of look. Hanging on the ceiling were lights in jars, making the atmosphere seem like that of a night in a stunning barn house.

They walked to a small table near the back of the cafe with a bookcase setting behind one of the chairs, and both asked for a cup of coffee when the waiter had come over to take their orders. After giving back their menus, they began to make even more small talk. Their coffees eventually came, and conversation continued, for it flowed easily between them; it always had. Soon enough, thirty minutes passed, then forty, until finally, three hours flew by. Yes, _three_ hours.

She choked as she laughed at the joke he had just made.

"You did not," she asked exasperatedly.

"I did," he nodded.

"Oh my god!" She laughed even harder, and he joined in. What could he say? Her laughter was just contagious.

She attempted to regain her breath, and as she did, she noticed the time on her watch.

"Oh, wow," she said.

"What?"

She looked back up. "We've been here for almost three hours."

"Wait, what? Really?"

"Yeah," she responded.

He breathed out a chuckle and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here for this long."

"Don't—no, don't be sorry," she genuinely smiled, "I had a lovely time."

"Really?" he asked nervously.

"No, it was horrible," she said sarcastically.

"You wound me," he dramatically faked a hurt expression.

"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off.

They both stared at each other, and comfortable silence fell upon them until she realized that she had a dance class to attend to in about an hour, so she broke the eye contact first.

"I hate to end this, but I have to go," she scrunched up her nose, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'm sorry for holding you up," he answered and got up from his chair, walking towards her to hold out her chair.

"Thank you," she said, and he simply smiled back at her.

The pair walked out of the cafe and stopped. She turned around and looked him in the eye. "I had a really good time."

"Me too," he smiled.

She nodded and hesitantly started to turn to head down the route that was different from his, but he gently grabbed her arm, prompting her to turn back around to face him.

"I just," he ran a hand through his hair. "I really hope I get to see you again," he continued. "I've missed you a lot. I know I shouldn't be saying that, but I need to."

"I've missed you too," she confessed. She pushed a lock of hair out of her face. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

"But I don't think you do know," she insisted. "You didn't deserve that, and I'm a horrible person for—"

"You're not a horrible person, Regina," he interrupted.

Her heart skipped a beat when he said her name. She looked up at him. "You're too good to me, you know. You always see the best in me."

"Always."

She chuckled. "Did you just—"

"I did. 'Always' is our thing remember?"

"I do," she smiled bittersweetly.

He nervously took a step closer to her. "Do you think…do you think I can see you again?"

She nodded. "I'd like that."

"Really?" he grinned like a fool.

"Always," she replied sincerely.

He bit his lip, trying not to shout in victory. "Okay, cool, yeah. Um, uh, I'll see you then."

She nodded and started to walk away, but turned at the very last minute. "Robin?"

"Yes, Regina?"

She stared at him a minute longer before shaking her head. "Nevermind."

Robin watched her walk away for the second time of his life, but this time, he knew he'd see her again.

Regina knew that saying yes to see Robin again was a big risk, a big step to take after everything they had been through, but the time she had spent with him today just came to show her that she still missed him, and hope erupted in her chest that maybe, just maybe, it would all work out. Sure, there would definitely be a lot of things that they needed to sort out, but they would just need to take things one step at a time. She thought it was better to try it out instead of wondering what could have been; she wanted to take that chance, and he wanted to too.

And they did just that. They got together every now and then, having dinner together, getting a quick coffee at the cafe, walking around the park. Eventually, they started to become serious again, but it was different this time; she was different, and he was too. Soon enough, she was walking down the aisle yet again, except this time she didn't run.

* * *

"And that, Samuel, is the story of how your mother and I fell in love again," the father finished.

"Really?" the child said in awe.

"Really," he nodded.

"Wow," replied the little boy.

The man stayed silent as his son played with the buttons on his suit.

"I miss her," the child whispered.

Tears sprung up in the father's eyes, but he didn't let them fall. He couldn't. He needed to stay strong for his son, _their_ son.

"I do too," he responded sadly.

"Do you think that she'll come visit us? I know she might be busy up there, but do you think that she'll ever have a day off to come visit?" his son asked innocently.

The father shifted, and his son moved his head so that he was lying on top of his chest.

"I don't know, Sam. Mommy has a lot to do up there, helping the other angels and watching over us. But one thing's for sure," he pointed to where Samuel's heart was, "she'll always be in here."

"Always?" Samuel put his hand to where his father had just pointed.

The father nodded.

"Always," he whispered.


End file.
